


the truth will set you free

by impsy



Series: time and time through an open flame [1]
Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Angst, Barebacking, Light Bondage, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-20
Updated: 2012-10-20
Packaged: 2017-11-16 16:33:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/541570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impsy/pseuds/impsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three days after Miles lets himself be captured so Charlie and the others can escape, Miles comes face to face with Bas. It doesn't go anything like he expected it to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the truth will set you free

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by hallowincest's suggestion for Miloe hatesex and alloverthe-world's brilliant response, "Blowjobs are totally suitable for torture right?" I take no responsibility for the kinky places my mind went.  
> This was written as a pair with plumeandfoudre's AMAZING [fanart!](http://plumeandfoudre.tumblr.com/post/33959700781/bas-ran-his-tongue-along-the-vein-and-miles-lost)  
> Hope you enjoy! :)

Three days.

Three days since they'd snuck into Independence Hall in a crazy attempt to free Rachel and Danny, three days since Miles had told them to leave him behind when Monroe confronted them, three days since he'd been face to face with Monroe and couldn't pull the fucking trigger.

They'd locked him up in the boiler room, a dark, windowless room where they'd handcuffed him to a pole that stubbornly refused to move, and tied his legs together at the ankles. Twice a day, a guard would come in with a tray of food before locking the door behind him, and twice a day he would push it away, forcing himself to ignore the increasingly appetizing smells. He couldn't take the risk that they'd drug him, not if he actually wanted to get out of here. He'd gone without food for longer, but that didn't mean his stomach wasn't aching. They'd left him a bucket of water to drink from, at least.

He hadn't seen Monroe since that first night, since Monroe had just stared him down, ignoring the gun in his face. He'd just stared back until Bas' guards had tied him up and dragged him away, unresisting. The last thing he saw was Monroe's face, staring at him like he'd seen a ghost.

Maybe he had. Monroe may have wanted the militia to bring him in alive, but he'd had no way to know that he actually was. Seven years had passed since he'd last seen him, after all, when he'd snuck away in the middle of the night like a child running away from home, moved from town to town to stay one step ahead of him. He was scared to find out how his old friend had changed in those years - and why he'd left him alone down here for so long.

He didn't have to wonder any longer, as no sooner had he thought it than Sebastian Monroe himself opened the door and strolled into the room, his uniform perfectly pressed and looking just as well put-together as he had at every military ceremony they'd ever been forced to attend.

Two guards flanked him, but as one hung and lit a lantern in the hook by the door, the other immediately grabbed Miles, unlocking his cuffs and throwing him into a wooden chair. Before he could even start to fight them, they'd tied his wrists together with the same rough ropes they'd used on his legs, and it rubbed painfully against the raw skin where the cuffs had already done three days' worth of damage.

Miles realized that Bas had brought a satchel into the room only when he set it on a nearby workbench, and Miles dreaded finding out what instruments of torture he'd brought with him.

Bas looked over the ropes with an appraising eye before nodding once and motioning for the door, and they saluted and left them alone.

He pulled at his bonds at the guards stepped away, trying not to let his disappointment show. His legs were tied so tight that he worried about the blood flow to his feet, and his hands, while not quite as bad, didn't give in the least. Bas always did know how to tie a knot. _Fuck._

"Hello, Miles," Bas said, and his voice was so familiar and so new all at once that his heart ached with how much he'd wanted to hear it again. Monroe looked down at him with his hands clasped behind his back, but he didn't reply, just stared downward. "It's good to see you."

He didn't reply, didn't move at all, just fixed his eyes firmly on the floor.

"I'm sorry about having to tie you up," Bas continued, and Miles could hear the regret in his voice. "But I couldn't really take the chance. Just because you didn't shoot me before doesn't mean you wouldn't if you got another chance. But... I don't want to hurt you. I just want to talk."

Nothing. He didn't move a muscle - that Monroe could see, anyway. He continued to pull and shift his arms, trying to work the ropes loose.

"The guards tell me you're not eating."

He clenched his jaw, wished he would just torture him or kill him or _something_ already. He couldn't bear listening to Bas pretend to care any more, not when he'd missed him so badly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bas' mouth quirk in a half smile.

"I wouldn't _poison_ you, Jesus, Miles." Bas reached out to rest his hand on Miles' arm, and he tried to jerk away, but he was tied too securely to get far. The warmth of his hand on his bare skin was like touching a live wire - a shock to his system, too much to stand, and he desperately wanted to get away before he got used to that feeling again. "You know me better than that. I don't want to kill you."

"Why the hell not?" he finally snapped, looking up to meet his eyes. "You've been hunting me down for years. Well, now you've got me. So what the hell do you want?"

Bas strolled behind him, running his hand up Miles' bare arm, over his thin t-shirt, fingertips tracing lightly along the back of his neck, and Miles couldn't help a shiver. "Is it so hard to believe that I want you alive, here, with me? That I want you to stay?"

He barked a laugh, sounding a lot more confident than he felt. "So you tie me up down here? Not really the best way to make me want to stick around."

"Maybe not," Bas mused, his voice going a little deeper, a little darker, and he slid his hand through the short hair at the back of Miles' head. "But it makes you more suggestible."

His body wanted nothing more than to lean into that touch - he wanted it for so many years that remembering he shouldn't, _can't,_ was almost impossible. But he tensed, forced himself to pull away as much as he could. "What do you want, Monroe?"

" _Monroe?_ " He actually laughed at this, his fingers still tangled in Miles' hair, massaging his scalp gently, almost tenderly. "Can't we go back to the old days? Miles and Bas, partners in crime?" He couldn't see the smirk, but knew it was there. "Among other things."

He clenched his jaw. "I'll pass."

"Will you?" Monroe stepped around to stand in front of him again, his hand never leaving Miles' skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps as he slid his hand around Miles' neck, his shoulder, his arm, and down his chest, tracing meaningless shapes as he went, wandering lower and lower. "You didn't miss this?"

"No." He gritted his teeth around the lie. Bas knew he was lying. He'd always known Miles' mind better than Miles himself. "I didn't."

This didn't deter Bas in the slightest, and he caressed him so teasingly that Miles felt a surge of want that he tried his best to suppress. But he'd craved his touch for so long that it was hard to resist. He'd missed this, missed _him_ so much, for so many years, that he couldn't help letting his eyes drift shut for a blissful moment-

Bas's chuckle brought him back to the present, and his old friend smirked, looking down to the obvious hardness pressing against the worn fabric of his pants. "I get the feeling you're not being totally honest with me."

"I don't-"

But his objection was cut off when Bas's hand moved down to run the heel if his hand along the hard line of his cock. Miles bit back a groan, turning his head away, and Bas chuckled.

"Thought so." He eased off the pressure to run his fingers along the length of him, a constant, teasing touch that made Miles achingly hard, desperate for more, for his touch, his tongue, his body around him-

"Bas-" He barely whimpered his name before he could stop himself, and he opened his eyes in time to see Monroe smile.

"'Bas.' That's better," he murmured, meeting his eyes with a wicked smirk. "Doing what I ask has advantages, Miles. Rewards. Instant-" He popped the buttons on Miles' pants, making him hiss with relief, "-gratification."

And he sank to his knees, his hands gripping Miles' thighs and looking up at him like he dared him to object.

Miles shook his head, tried to pull back, even as his body instantly responded. But the chair was a hell of a lot sturdier than it looked, and all he did was dig the ropes further in to his ankles and wrists. "Bas, I don't-"

"You don't what?" Monroe's clever fingers undid the other buttons slower than necessary, looking far too smug at Miles' reaction - frozen in place, unable to even struggle against his bonds, utterly mesmerized by the sight. "You don't want this?" He managed to tug Miles' pants down just enough to expose him to the chilly basement air. "Want me?"

A hand wrapped around the length of him, and Miles squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head, trying not to moan aloud at the sensations when Bas began to stroke him slowly.

"Tell me, Miles."

"Tell you- _fuck_ \- Tell you what?"

"The truth." Bas said it like it was obvious, the easiest thing in the world to confess how much he'd thought of him these past eight years. "Why you left."

He leveled a cold stare at him - difficult to do when half naked and tied to a chair, but he did his best. "If you still don't know-"

"Fine," Bas allowed, then leaned forward to nip at his inner thighs, making him jump. "Then tell me the rest." A kiss to sooth the sting. "Tell me what you did without me fucking you every night."

He punctuated the demand with a long, slow lick up the underside of his cock, and Miles groaned, leaning his head back.

But he didn't touch him again, and Miles tried to get himself under control. "I- didn't stay anywhere too long," he said on an exhale, his hands balled into fists. _Touch me touch me_ touch me _!_

"Where?"

"Chicago, Peoria, Lafayette. Made it to- to Ohio for a few months." He felt Bas's breath against his skin, and even without looking down, he could tell how close his gorgeous lips were to touching him. He couldn't say the words fast enough. "I kept moving so you- couldn't find me."

Bas made a "hmm" of interest as he wrapped his hand around Miles' cock, and he whimpered. "But you didn't leave the republic."

He shook his head furiously, and Bas stroked him so slowly and lightly that he thought he'd lose his mind.

"Why not?" Bas raised an eyebrow, but Miles didn't reply, and he smiled slowly in reply. "I see. You wanted me to find you."

"I-"

"If you really wanted to get away, you could have left." He shrugged and raised an eyebrow. "There are plenty of places where nobody has ever heard the name Miles Matheson. But... you didn't."

He bit the inside of his cheek and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore his words, craving his touch, his mouth, his everything.

"Part of you hoped I'd figure out where you were." He licked another stripe from base to tip, then pursed his lips and blew a puff of cool air along him, and Miles groaned. It wasn't enough, never enough of him. "Tell me the truth, Miles," Bas demanded. "Tell me how much you need me."

He couldn't take it anymore. "Fuck- I need you, of course I fucking need you, I always did. Jesus, Bas, don't you know?"

He met his eyes and grinned. "I just wanted to hear you say it."

Miles groaned, pulling on the ropes. "Fuck, you're a bastard. Come on, Bas, just-"

A dark chuckle. "Since you've been so good. But- keep talking," he ordered, then finally, fucking finally, leaned forward and wrapped his lips around him.

Miles couldn't help the moan that escaped his lips. The feeling of Bas' mouth around him, the look in his blue eyes as he gazed up at him, was almost too much, but he tried to do as he asked. Anything so he wouldn't stop.

Eight years. Eight years of guilt and hating himself, but as hard as he'd tried to get over him, all he'd ever really wanted was Bas.

"Couldn't stop thinking about you," he said, not caring how sappy he sounded. He gazed down at those perfect lips wrapped around him, wished he wasn't tied up so he could grab his hair. "Tried to. For- _fuck_." Bas ran his tongue along the vein, and Miles lost his train of thought for a long moment, clenching his jaw and trying to keep himself together. He took a few deep breaths, and Bas paused in his torment, looking up at him and raising one eyebrow, obviously waiting for him to continue talking. "For years," he finally managed. "All I wanted was you. Ben told me I was- was crazy. After everything we... But- couldn't help it."

Bas pulled off him with an obscene _pop_. "You saw Ben again? I didn't think-"

"He didn't want to see me." Miles would have felt bad for interrupting, but Bas seemed to approve, sinking back down around him, the wet heat of his mouth almost too much to bear. "But I wanted to- apologize."

He hummed, urging him to continue, but the vibrations made Miles gasp and his whole body tense. He arched his back as much as he could, jerking forward into his mouth, straining against the ropes and not caring how they hurt. He was right on the edge-

"Bas-!"

But he pulled off at his cry, and Miles couldn't help a pitiful whimper, which made him chuckle as he started to take off his own uniform, stripping efficiently. "Patience."

"Fuck," he breathed, not even wanting to blink as Bas quickly pulled off his jacket and unbuttoned his pants before tugging them off and throwing them aside unceremoniously.

Bas hooked his fingers in the waistband of his boxers and met Miles' eyes, raising an eyebrow. "Did I say you could stop talking?"

He took a deep breath and tried to get himself under control. "What do you- want me to say?"

"You were telling me how you went to see Ben," Monroe supplied, stepping away for a moment to fish around in the satchel he'd thrown on the table, and Miles took a moment to admire the view. He'd once known the long, muscled lines of Bas's body better than he knew his own, and though years had passed and new scars obtained, Miles had never seen anything more perfect in his life. All he wanted to do was run his hands over him, grab Bas and show him exactly how much he missed him, and he pulled reflexively, wincing as the ropes dug into his wrists.

"I thought I told you to keep talking?" He turned back around, one had slick with lube, and Miles shook his head.

"Can't believe there's still lube around," he muttered in wonder.

"Perks of being president." Bas grinned, standing between his knees and reaching down to run his slick-covered fingers over him, and he gasped at the contact, tilting his hips toward him as much as he could. "Now, you were saying...?"

"I- went to see Ben," he began, but hesitated as Bas shucked his boxers off and straddled his lap. His hands were tied, how was he supposed to... "Bas, I can't-"

"Shh, don't worry about it," he murmured, reaching down to angle him properly.

He shook his head, struggling against the ropes. "Don't want to hurt y-"

But he gasped when Bas began to sink down. Instead of the tightness he expected, he felt himself slide smoothly inside him.

"You-" Was all he could manage before he leaned his head back and shut his eyes, the sensations too much.

"I told you not to worry," Bas whispered, his breath hot against Miles' ear, his body tight around him. "Always take care of you, don't I?"

An image sprang to mind unbidden: Bas laying on his plush bed, his eyes squeezed shut, fingering himself open and imagining it was Miles, thinking of him being locked up down here, knowing he would get this far-

But... he assumed Miles would still want him? How did he know he'd-

But that train of thought was derailed as Bas slid him in another slow, agonizing inch, breathing heavily, his fingers digging in to Miles' shoulders where he clutched at him for balance and support.

"So what did Ben say when you- _ah_ \- when you went to see him?"

Miles huffed a breathy laugh and met his eyes again. "Is this- really what you want to talk about right now? My brother?"

Bas squeezed around him, forcing a helpless moan from his lips, and and looked down at him, his gaze predatory. "Keep. Talking."

"Fuck. Ben- Ben was pissed. Didn't want to talk after- after everything. But he let me stay for a night. Outside town, so Charlie and Danny didn't know I was there. They didn't- I thought they might tell someone they saw me. Lead the militia to me. Ben thought- _ah_ , please, Bas... Ben- Ben agreed. We talked that night and I left in the morning."

"About?"

He struggled to remember, but it was a challenge to think of anything but Bas' body above him, Bas' skin against his, Bas' tight heat sinking down on his cock.

Being with him - not just like this, but all the time - it was all he wanted, all he'd ever wanted. Even after everything that happened. Miles had tried to get Bas out of his system, so he'd been with plenty of people, men and women both, hoping they'd help him forget or get the hell over him. Using them, really, and he regretted that with Nora especially.

But nothing worked. No one else made him feel like this, like all the wires in his brain got crossed in the best way, like Bas was completely surrounding him and taking over every one of his senses, so he could think nothing but _Bas, Bas, Bas._

He couldn't help a little thrust into that tight heat, and Bas moaned, clutching even tighter at his shoulders. Miles desperately wanted more, wanted to grab Bas' hips and take him, mark him up again, know that he was _his_ , and he mindlessly tugged at the ropes keeping him tied to the chair. The pain in his wrists brought him back to the present, reminded him he was a prisoner, and he groaned and stilled.

"Come on, Miles." Monroe grinned and sank down the rest of the way, fully sheathing Miles inside him. "You know you don't have to hold back. Not with me."

"I wouldn't hold back if you'd untie me."

Bas squeezed around him, forcing a moan from Miles' lips. "More fun this way."

"For who?"

Bas gripped his shoulders tightly, rocking forward and back, leaning forward and biting his earlobe as he moved his hips. "You," he whispered right into his ear, making Miles groan.

He surged forward, sucking on his neck hard enough to leave a mark. "Knew there was a reason I missed you," he mumbled against his skin, making him chuckle darkly.

"You talked to Ben," Bas prompted, winding the fingers of one hand into Miles' hair and tugging sharply. "Did he finally-" Miles jerk his hips upward to meet him again, and he was gratified to hear how rough his voice sounded when he continued. " _Christ_ \- tell you why the lights went out?"

Did he- wait, what? Miles leaned back a bit, frowning. "What? Bas, I-"

But Bas chose that moment to pull almost all the way off him before slamming back home so hard he saw stars, crying out. "Did he tell you about the pendants?" Bas circled his hips, sweat dripping from his brow, his gaze steady and intense.

Every nerve was alight, the tension too much to bear. He felt the edge approaching and was honestly amazed he'd held out this long.  "N- no, he didn't, but- Bas, _fuck_ \- I can't-"

"Come on, Miles, focus," he whispered, meeting his eyes, electric blue sending a shock through him as he tightened his grip on Miles' shoulders and moved even faster, a breakneck pace that Miles just couldn't keep up with. "The pendants, Miles. Who told you about the pendants?"

"Aaron!" He blurted out the name, uncaring about what he was saying, thrusting up into him as much as he could. He was so close-

"Aaron who?"

He was right on the edge, so consumed with release that he barely registered what he was saying. "Aaron Pittman- with Charlie, he has a- a pendant- told us it turned the power on- Bas, _please, fuck-_ "

As the words left his mouth, he finally began to realize-

But it was too late.

" _Yes,_ " Bas hissed. He reached down to fist his own cock, pumping furiously as he slammed Miles' cock deep inside him and _squeezed_ , then yanked Miles' forward by the hair for a bruising kiss.

He cried out, a broken sound of pleasure and pain, muffled by Bas' mouth against him as he came and came deep inside him, and Bas followed him over the edge a moment later.

They laid there panting for just a moment, exhausted from the effort, and as much as Miles wanted to bask in the afterglow and wished he could memorize this moment to cherish later on, he couldn't - not when he'd finally realized what he'd said, what he'd given away, how much danger he'd put Charlie and everyone else in, now that Bas knew Aaron had a pendant.

Bas didn't seem to care as much about the moment, standing up and wiping them both off with a rag with emotionless efficiency, not meeting Miles' eyes.

Miles could only stare, panting still. The ache in his chest had nothing to do with how he was so exhausted that he'd collapse if he wasn't tied to a chair. How could he have let this happen? He knew Bas - knew him well, a long time ago.

But he'd learned his lesson now. The man standing in front of him wasn't the man he lo- used to love. He was a stranger, nothing more.

"Thanks for being so cooperative," Bas said conversationally as he buttoned his jacket. "I wasn't sure if you- well. Any of it, really." He turned to face him, looking just as put-together as when he came in.

He shook his head, his hands balled into fists, every part of his body aching with anger and regret and- other emotions he didn't want to fucking think about. "You're a fucking bastard," he growled. "When I get out of here-"

"Save it, Miles." He waved a hand dismissively and headed for the door without a backward glance. But he paused before opening it, one hand on the door frame. "For what it's worth," he said, looking back and finally meeting his eyes, "I always..." But he cut himself off, shook his head, and blew out the lantern as he closed the door behind him, leaving Miles alone in the dark. 


End file.
